


Le Sauveur

by IamChameleon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-01 16:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17247869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamChameleon/pseuds/IamChameleon
Summary: Emma wants to start a new gig. Regina has opinions about it.





	1. Intro

Author's Note: I haven't written properly in years, so this may not go anywhere. The idea was floating around my mind, so I wanted to see if it'd pique any interest. I'll add tags and change ratings as needed. If this were to continue, it'd absolutely be a swan queen fic.

* * *

 

Introduction

 

The mayor’s secretary was just setting her mug of freshly-made coffee down on her desk when she heard a voice yell her name from the office behind her. “Bernice!”

She startled; her coffee spilled over the sides of her mug. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Yes, Madame Mayor?” She called back as she pulled some extra paper towels out of the top drawer of her desk, seemingly saved solely for occasions such as these.

“Can you come into my office for a moment please?”

Knowing it wasn’t actually a request, she quickly wiped the coffee off her desk, tossed the paper towels into the bin underneath it and made her way to the mayor’s office. “What can I do for you, Mayor Mills?”

Regina dropped the folder she was looking through onto her desk in front of her and gestured towards it. “What the hell is this?”

‘Oh good. Eight in the morning, and we’re already cursing.’ Bernice thought as she glanced at the folder then looked back to Regina. “It appears to be a business proposal, Madame Mayor.”

“Is this some kind of joke, Bernice?”

She looked from Regina to the folder and back. She lifted the folder and skimmed over the pages. “It appears to be legitimate, Mayor Mills.” She set the folder back down on the mayor’s desk.

“So you mean to tell me that the current sheriff wishes for permits to renovate an old warehouse by the shore and open up her own business?”

“It appears so, Madame Mayor.”

“And what, pray tell, is this business Sheriff Swan wishes to establish?”

Bernice looked from the mayor to the folder again. “I’m not certain, Mayor Mills. Perhaps if it isn’t clear in the proposal you could give the sheriff a ring?” She held her breath as she waited for a response, hoping she hadn’t crossed a line.

Regina pursed her lips as she sat in her office chair, gazing at her short and stout elderly secretary. She glanced back down at a pile of papers on her desk and shuffled through them until she found the one she was looking for, handing it to Bernice. “And what does this look like to you?”

Bernice read the paragraph written on the sheriff station’s stationary. “Um. I believe it’s a resignation letter from the sheriff.” She looked back at Regina.

“And you’re sure this isn’t some kind of prank, Bernice?”

‘Well I wouldn’t put it past her, but…’ “I’m pretty sure, Madame Mayor.”

“I see. You are dismissed.”

Bernice nodded once. “Yes, Madame Mayor.” She let out a breath as she made her way back to her desk, grabbing her mug half full of lukewarm coffee. She shook her head as she went about preparing a fresh cup.


	2. Chapter 2

If Emma hadn’t been so engrossed in the report she was writing up for a previous call, she might have noticed the tell-tale click-clacking of the mayor’s heels as she entered the station. Regina stopped in front of Emma’s desk. She may also have noticed the mayor clearing her throat. She was engrossed.

“Sheriff Swan,” Regina said as she dropped the folder she was carrying next to Emma’s report on the desk.

At her surprise, Emma gasped and seemingly lost control of her limbs as the pen she was using flew out of her hand. She bobbled it a few times, marking her white button-down in the process, before it fell uselessly to the floor and rolled until it hit the toe of Regina’s left heel.

“Regina!” She squeaked, then cleared her throat. “How nice of you to stop by.”

“What is the meaning of this?” the former queen asked as she gestured towards the folder.

“Well, Madame Mayor, I believe those are my business and permit proposals, which means that I’m proposing you permit me to renovate the warehouse I have purchased and allow me to open a business.”

“Is this some kind of elaborate prank, Miss Swan? What exactly are you playing at?”

Emma sighed, already knowing where this conversation was going. “I’m not playing at anything, Regina. I don’t want to be Sheriff anymore. I never really wanted it in the first place. I just needed something steady to keep money coming in, and if it pissed you off in the meantime, well, I wasn’t exactly upset about it.”

“And now?”

“Now I have new goals in mind. Or… well old goals that now seem much more obtainable.”

“What are you even going to sell in this new business of yours? Used leather jackets and old broken parts that fall off that abomination you call a car? I suppose you could advertise it as steampunk thrift.”

Emma wasn’t sure whether she should be insulted at the mayor’s jibes about her trusty yellow bug or impressed that she knew what steampunk even was. “Well if you’d read the full proposal, you’d know that I want to turn the warehouse into a restaurant, so I suppose I’d be selling food and beverages.”

Regina stared at her for a moment then blinked slowly. “And this is some life-long dream of yours? What could you possibly know about running a restaurant? Who’s going to cook? Who will be on your wait staff? Surely you don’t plan to do any of the physical work seeing as how you can’t even hold a pen properly.” She smirked as she glanced at the pen by her foot then back to Emma.

Emma huffed. “And yet you trust me with a gun.” She sighed again. “Look, Regina, I know what I’m doing, and even if I didn’t, I know you’d be happy to watch me fail. So can we just get on with the process, or are you here to tell me it’s a no-go?”

As Regina opened her mouth to retort, Emma’s phone began to ring. Emma picked it up to answer. “Swan… Sure, I’ll be right there.” She hung up her phone and slid it into her back pocket. As she grabbed her red leather jacket and slipped it on, she looked back at the mayor. “Look, Regina, if you really want to talk about this, why don’t we schedule a proper meeting? I have to go, so I’ll call you later today, and we can figure something out.” With that, she picked up her keys and headed out of the station.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little backstory

Henry slowly and quietly shut the front door behind him as he entered the house. The ten-year-old slipped out of his shoes and set them in their designated spot by the door before tip-toeing his way to the stairs with his contraband. He had one foot on the first step and a hand on the stair rail before he heard his name being called from further inside the house.

“Henry?”

He stopped and squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Man! How does she do that?!’ He turned his head to the direction of the voice, hoping if he answered, she wouldn’t come find him. “Hey, mom!”

“I thought that was you! How was school?”

He could hear her bare feet moving closer to the foyer. ‘Crap!’ He slipped off his backpack and quickly unzipped it. “Uh it was… It was good!” He tried to shift his books around so the prohibited object would fit. Too slow. Regina came into view a moment later. Henry straightened and hid his hands behind his back. She peered at him skeptically. “How… How was work?”

She raised an eyebrow. And although it was less intimidating while she was wearing leggings and an over-sized sweater rather than her normal work attire, it was still formidable. She may not be his birth mother, but she still had the “mom” looks down pat. “Work was fine, thank you. What are you hiding?”

Things between Regina and Henry had been a little strained ever since Henry found out he’d been adopted. He had run away to Boston. To his birth mother. To Emma Swan. Emma had been shocked and terrified and took him back to Storybrooke, Maine as soon as he’d told her that’s where he lived. She drove back to Boston the next day with a lot on her mind. Henry had somehow managed to get her email along with her address, and they kept in contact until eventually, she decided to leave what little life she had there and move up to Storybrooke to get to know her son.

Regina was apprehensive about it all, but she wanted to see her baby boy happy. If that meant having _her_ nearby, then she’d have to deal with it. It had been a few months since the whole ordeal, and things were starting to settle. Unfortunately, so was the town’s new super-cool Sheriff Swan who got the sheriff position after the one prior passed away unexpectedly of heart failure. She didn’t have many qualifications aside from being a bail bonds person in Boston, but nobody else in the tiny down did either.

Henry put on his most innocent face. “Would you believe me if I said nothing?”

Regina tried to hide an amused smirk behind pursed lips. “No.” She held out a hand.

Henry sighed in defeat and handed over the ice-cold unopened bottle of root beer. “It’s not her fault! I bribed her!” For the past couple weeks, Emma had been walking Henry home from school.

“She’s an adult. She should know better than to be bought over by… What did you even bribe her with?”

Henry smiled. “My charming personality?”

“Right.” Regina deadpanned. “Go put your things away and wash up. If you promise to eat all your vegetables, you can have half of this with dinner.”

‘What?’ “Really?”

“Yes. It’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“Okay!” Regina shook her head and smiled as he left his bag on the stairs and rushed off to wash his hands. She headed back into the kitchen and poured the root beer into a glass at the already-set table. She glanced to the doorway to make sure she wouldn’t be caught, then drank the last few sips in the bottle before tossing it with the rest of the recycling.

She was dishing out proper portions onto their plates when Henry sauntered into the kitchen and sat at his usual chair. “Henry,” she said as she sat down. “What do you know about Miss Swan’s cooking abilities?”

Henry stopped with his forkful of perfectly prepared penne halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“Emma. Does she cook?”

He chewed his food as he thought, then shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s made me grilled cheese a couple times for lunch, but we usually just go to Granny’s. Why?”

“Hm. No reason.”

He looked at her for a couple seconds. “Okay.” The conversation was already forgotten as he took a sip of his soda.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Emma picked Henry up for school. She ruffled his hair as he walked up to her. “Hey, kid. How was school? Did Ms. Blanchard have you guys make yet another birdhouse?”

“Not today,” he answered as he attempted to straighten his hair. “We just read a couple more chapters of Holes.”

“Ah, okay. What else?” she asked as they began to make their way back to the mayoral mansion.

Henry thought for a moment, then perked up. “Today at lunch Austin bet John to drink a combination of ketchup, mustard, applesauce, and chocolate milk! He did it and then threw up in the trash can, and Ms. Blanchard had to send him to the nurse’s office.”

Emma nudged him gently with her arm. “Eugh! That’s disgusting.” Emma made fake vomiting noises.

Henry laughed. “I know! It was great!”

Regina opened the door and observed the pair as they walked up the path to the mansion. Emma smiled politely and nodded at her as they made their way up the steps, then turned to Henry. “Go on inside, kid. I’ve got to talk to your mom for a second.”

He looked up at her, smiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She smiled back. “Same time, same place!”

He gave her a side hug and headed inside. “Bye, Emma!”

“See ya, kid.” She turned to Regina who was looking at her expectantly.

“Miss Swan.”

Emma stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets. “Hey, Regina. I realize I didn’t call you yesterday after my shift, but by the time I got home it was pretty late, and I didn’t want to bug you at home…” She trailed off her rambling and rubbed the back of her neck. Regina arched a brow as if waiting for her to continue. “Right. So I was thinking instead of a business meeting, we could have a business dinner?”

This caught Regina’s attention. “Excuse me?”

“Well I know you believe I can barely function as a human being, let alone run my own business, so I thought it’d maybe be more believable if I were to just show you?”

“Are you asking or telling me?”

“Telling?” The perfectly put-together woman always made Emma nervous.       

Regina pursed her lips as she thought. Emma felt as though she was staring into her soul. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. Tomorrow night. 7 PM. I’ll get a sitter for Henry.”

“Oh um. Tomorrow. Sure.” _Shit. That’s soon._ Emma nodded and bounced on the balls of her feet.

“Goodnight, Miss Swan.”

Emma nodded again. “Right. Goodnight.” She turned swiftly and made her way back down the steps. Regina watched her hasten down the path and smirked as she closed the door. _This should be interesting._

* * *

 

Emma lived in a one-bedroom apartment a couple blocks away from the police station. She didn’t have a lot in terms of belongings, so she didn’t need anything extraordinary. Just a living area with a couch and TV and a bedroom large enough for her queen bed, a nightstand, and her measly collection of clothes. The one area of her living space where she was willing to spare no expense was her kitchen. She searched through what felt like every vacant apartment in Storybrooke to make sure she had a decently-sized gas range and oven, a double-basin sink, a fair amount of counterspace, and a top-of-the-line dishwasher because who wants to wash dishes after cooking a meal?

Emma considered herself to be a fairly level-headed person. She’s had to take care of herself from a young age. She’s held steady jobs for most of her adult life. She’s a goddamn cop for crying out loud. But right now? Right now, Emma Swan was freaking out.

The mayor was due any minute, and Emma was panicking, pacing her small apartment to make sure everything was clean or put away. God forbid Regina find a speck of dust on the television screen or a lost sock in the couch cushions. One more thing for Regina to deem her unfit to hang out with her son.

There was a light knock at the door. Emma breathed in deeply, straightened out her green and black button-down plaid shirt, then breathed out as she opened the door for the mayor.

“Miss Swan.” Regina said as she thrust a bottle into Emma’s hands.

“Thanks. Come in.” She looked at the bottle then back to Regina. “Sparkling grape juice?”

She caught a hint of a smirk at her bewilderment as Regina removed her jacket. “Well this is a business meeting. However, I still felt as I should bring something as you are providing dinner.”

“Right.”

“Where should I put this?” She held up her coat.

“Oh. Just over the back of the couch is fine. Sorry, I don’t have a coat closet.”

“That’s fine.” She set her coat on the couch and glanced around the apartment as she followed Emma to the kitchen. She sat on a stool at the breakfast bar while Emma grabbed glasses and poured their sparkling beverage. “It smells good in here. What are we having?”

Emma handed Regina her glass and took a sip from her own. “Tonight, I have prepared gigot d’agneau avec pommes de terre rôties et petits pois,” She said with an awful French accent.

Regina smirked. “And in English?”

“Leg of lamb with roasted potatoes and peas.”

“Impressive. Where are you hiding your chef?”

Emma shrugged. “You’re lookin’ at her.”

Regina smiled. She decided to go into tonight with an open mind. “I hope it tastes as good as it smells.”

“Me too. If you’d like to sit at the table, the lamb has been resting, and the vegetables should be about done.”

“Alright.” Regina made her way to the table with her drink and sat to the right of the head while Emma pulled the potatoes from the oven.

She brought everything over one dish at a time and set the lamb in front of her spot at the head of the table. As she made the first slice into the lamb, she checked the color and breathed a sigh of relief. It was perfectly pink in the middle. She served her guest before herself and sat down, motioning to Regina’s plate. “Dig in.”

Regina observed the food on her plate. It all looked perfectly cooked, and as she brought the first bite to her lips, Emma grabbed her wrist and said, “Wait!”

Regina startled in surprised and dropped her fork on her plate with a loud clank. Emma winced. “Sorry! I just… one second?” She got up, hustled into the kitchen, and made her way back with a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. She set the bowl on the table, placing the spoon inside it and sheepishly said, “I uh… almost forgot the mint sauce.”

“You _almost_ gave me a heart attack,” Regina stated as she picked up her fork again.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… it makes a difference.”

“Okay. What does it go on?”

“I usually put it on the lamb and peas.”

Regina did as instructed, swiping the piece already on her fork through the sauce on her plate. She raised an eyebrow at Emma as if to ask if she was allowed to eat now. Emma motioned with her hand and said, “Bon appétite.”

She shut her eyes as her mouth closed around her fork. When she opened her eyes, Emma was looking at her, anxiously awaiting her opinion. “Wow.”

Emma smiled. “Yeah?”

Regina nodded. “It’s delicious, Miss Swan.”

Her smile widened. “Great! Eat up. There’s plenty here,” she said as she tore into her own food.

As she finished her meal, Regina looked at Emma expectantly. “So?”

Emma looked up from her plate. “Soooo what?”

“You say this isn’t all a ruse. So. How did you learn to cook?” For once, she seemed more curious than judgmental. Still, Emma hesitated.

“Oh, it’s kind of a long story.”

“I’m listening.”

She took a deep breath and thought for a moment about what to say. “Well, when I was a kid in the system, I didn’t pick up any real life skills aside from, you know, lock-picking, petty theft, and how to drink yourself into oblivion.” Emma let out of huff of a laugh and played with her fork and knife as she spoke.

 “After I wound up in prison, I needed a job so I could make a little money for commissary and to keep my mind busy and stay out of trouble, and the only available job was in the kitchen. Since I was the newest and didn’t really know anything, they mainly just had me cleaning for a while, but eventually I got to learn the basics. Granted pretty much everything came from a can and was just heated up, but I learned to make rice and grilled cheese, simple stuff like that.”

She glanced up at Regina, who was listening intently. “How did you get from boiling rice and buttering bread to roasting lamb?”

The corners of Emma’s lips curved up into a small smile. “When I got out, I didn’t really have any money or anywhere to go, so I was hanging out in libraries, applying to jobs by day and sleeping in my car by night. Sometimes when I didn’t feel up to reading or was discouraged by not hearing back about my applications, I’d just wander around the city to explore and clear my head. One day, I came across a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant with a help wanted sign out front. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but as soon as I walked inside, I could tell the place was special.”

She took a sip of her sparkling grape juice. “No one wanted to hire an ex-con, but the owner of the place was desperate, so he took me on as a bus boy…girl…person. He was a grumpy old Frenchman called Chef Raphael.” She smiled as if remembering something fondly.

“He paid less than minimum wage, and it was all under the table, but it was a job. So I’d go in every day from noon to around 10 PM and clean tables and floors and wash dishes. He said I didn’t have to pay for food, but if I wanted anything, I had to make it myself.”

“Sounds like he worked you to the bone.”

Emma shrugged. “It meant I got two meals a day and was able to start saving up, so I wasn’t going to complain. Anyway, after a few months of bussing, the main line cook fell ill, and Chef asked me to cover for him. Said it was longer hours and harder work, but he’d pay me double what I was making at the time. Chef had the sous chef Darwin take me under his wing. First, he taught me how to do all the prep work a line cook does, but after we realized I had kind of a knack for it, he taught me everything on the menu. Eventually, the old line cook returned, and I went back to bussing, but I’d fill in for other cooks every now and then. When I got into bail bonding, I went down to part-time at the restaurant and wound up just cooking there on the weekends. Cooking kind of saved my life, I guess.”

Regina finished off her sparkling juice as she processed all the new information she’d just learned. “That is quite the story, Emma.”

Emma smiled sheepishly. “Can’t say my life has been boring.”

“Certainly not. In fact, it appears as though I owe you an apology.”

Emma’s eyebrow rose in question. “What for?”

“For judging you so quickly, for one.”

“It’s no big deal. It tends to happen when people find out I’ve been locked up.”

Regina rested her hand on top of Emma’s on the table and looked her in the eye. “They shouldn’t. You have been through so much in such a short amount of time and have worked your ass off to get where you are now, and I’ve just assumed you’re some lazy, troubled woman who uses her obvious feminine wiles to get what she wants.”

Emma scoffed. “Oh please.”

“What?” Regina removed her hand from Emma’s and removed her napkin from her lap, placing it next to her plate on the table. “You always act so carefree about everything, and yet you always seem to get what you want. Excuse me if I assumed you used your good looks to get it. Turns out you do have more than just a pretty face on those shoulders.”

Emma smirked. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Regina rolled her eyes, “You would pick that up over everything else I’ve just said. Yes, Emma, you are pretty.” There was a rosy tint to Regina’s cheeks that couldn’t be pinned to the sparkling grape juice.

Emma pushed a pea around her plate. “So does this mean you’ll sign off on the warehouse?”

Regina thought for a moment, and Emma waited with baited breath. “I suppose Storybrooke could use another fine dining establishment.”


End file.
